“We are, Sir, most gratefully,
“Your humble servants,
“St. James’s Ringers.”
Ah! much respected “St. James’s company,” do “indulge the hope” of making St. Mary’s bells speak eloquently again. If my pen can avail, you shall soon pull “Old Tom’s” tail in that steeple; and all his sons, daughters, and kindred around him, shall lift up their voices in well-tuned chorus, and sing “hallelujahs” of returning joy. “Those evening bells, those evening bells,” which used to frighten all the dogs and old women in the parish, and which used to make me wish were suspended round the ringers’ necks, shall utter sweet music and respond delightedly to lovers’ vows and tales whispered in shady lanes and groves, in the vicinity of your beautiful town. You, worthy old bellmen, who have discoursed so rapidly on the marriages of my father, and uncle, and cousin, and friend, and acquaintance, who would have (for a guinea!) paid the same compliment to myself, (although I was wedded in a distant land, and like a hero of romance and true knight-errant, claimed my fair bride, without consulting “father or mother, sister or brother,”) and made yourselves as merry at my expense, as my pleasantest friends or bitterest enemies could have wished, had I hinted such a thing!
Oh! respectable churchwardens—discharge the “young company,” who chant unfeelingly and unprofitably. Remember the “old ringers!”
“Pity the sorrows of the poor old men.”
Respect talent—consider their virtues—patronise that art which “can only be attained when young”—and which the “young company” cannot attain—(does this mean they are stupid?)—and console the “old ringers,” and let them pull on until they are pulled into their graves! Think how they have moved the venerable tower of old St. James’s with their music[244]—nay, until the very bricks and stones above, wished to become more intimately acquainted with them! Do not let a stigma be cast upon them—for, should the good town’s-people imagine the “most hideous noise” was caused by the “old ringers,” their characters are gone for ever—they dare not even look at you through a sheet of paper! How “many a time and oft” have they fired their feux de joie on the king’s birthday—how many thousand changes pealed for the alderman’s annual feast—how many “tiddle-lol-tols” played on the celebration of your election—parish dinners, &c. &c. Then think of their fine—half-minute—scientific—eloquent “tolls” for the death of the “young—the brave—and the fair!” Oh!—respectable gentlemen in office—“think of these things.”
I can aver, the ringers of St. Mary’s are only to be equalled in the variety of their tunes, and unaccountable changes, by “the most hideous noise” of our Waterloo-road bellmen. I suppose they are a “young company.” I can only say, then, I wish they were old, if there were any chance of their playing in tune and time.
And now, farewell, my good “old ringers” of St. James’s. I have done all I can for you, and will say there is as much difference between your ringing and the “young company” at St. Mary’s, as there is between the fiddling of the late Billy Waters and Signor Spagnoletti, the leader of the large theatre in the Haymarket!
Farewell! May you have possession of St. Mary’s steeple by the time you see this in the Every-Day Book; and may the first merry peal be given in honour of your considerate and faithful townsman—
S. R.